The Hand One's Dealt
by Jormus
Summary: Strickler finds out that his student is the new Trollhunter and faces a decision. In another world he might not have hesitated to turn the boy over to Bular's wrath, but in this one... In this one he chooses to take a gamble.
1. Place Your Bets

Strickler closed his office door and reached for his phone, ready to call the Janus Order so that Merlin's latest menace could be taken care of.

Just as his hand brushed the smooth plastic he hesitated.

Battles… Wars even… were often won by a single choice.

He withdrew his hand and instead pulled out his latest stack of test papers. Having been a school teacher for a little over a century now, on and off, the routine of marking the papers was grounding. Eventually he reached the end of the stack and was left twisting his pen in his fingers.

What was he to do about Young Atlas? He could kill the boy quite easily at this point. He had seen Lake's physical education scores, it would not be difficult. There would certainly be some uproar among the local population but it was not difficult to make a death appear accidental; especially that of a teenage boy. They were so young… foolish... accident prone…

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Strickler was self-aware enough to know that he was not a good person. He would not have lived this long if that was the case; kind hearted changelings were hard to come by for a reason. Still that did not mean he didn't care. He had seen enough of human cruelty over the centuries to not feel a terrible amount of guilt over what was to be done to them, but his brothers and sisters _they_ had never had a choice. The so called "Good" trolls hated changelings; Gum-Gums at least tolerated them. Provided they served the agenda, of course. The moment they showed any sort of hesitation, the tiniest hint that they might go against the will of Gunmar…. Well humans weren't the only thing on the Gum-Gums' menu.

And yet…

A _human_ Trollhunter. And James Lake Jr of all people at that!

This could change everything.

The boy was not yet exposed to Troll prejudices. He was young, malleable and, most importantly, he looked up to Strickler. Walt was, after all, the first person, except for perhaps young Tobias, he had gone to for advice after his encounter with the trolls. Jim had floundered and hid the truth under a poorly constructed lie, but that was not so much indicative of a lack of trust in Strickler so much as a fear of sounding crazy.

Strickler hummed. Yes, he could use this.

He would have to act fast. The longer he waited the more the boy would come to trust his trainers over Strickler and the more likely he would be to buy into their beliefs. At this particular point in time, the balance was in Walt's favor. Jim knew him and was comfortable with him. Revealing his true nature might shake that a bit, but ultimately the voluntary revelation of a secret was seen a sign of trustworthiness.

Strickler closed his pen with a sharp click and stood up.

* * *

A chance to approach Jim did not present itself until the next day and then quite unexpectedly. Walter had been on his way to his office when he had caught sight of Tobias shoving Jim rather frantically into the locker rooms. Curious, he followed. As he opened the door there was a flash of blue light.

"Jim?"

Had the young fool really activated the amulet in the middle of a high school locker room?

He was met by Tobias who attempted to distract him. Honestly. If he had not been suspicious before he would be now. He would never cease to be amazed by how oblivious students thought their teachers were.

He rounded the corner and took in the sight of his star pupal looking very cornered in a full suit of armor. It took all of his years of training to keep a straight face. Jim smiled sheepishly at him and straightened up with a loud clatter.

"Jim, I don't believe that's appropriate school attire," Strickler said giving him a pointed look. "Do you?"

He watched with careful aloofness as his students attempted to spin a story about the suit of armor being for the Romeo and Juliet tryouts. Strickler briefly reconsidered his choice not to just report the boy in. Had they even read that play? He was half tempted to call Jim's bluff just to see how he would do in the auditions.

"I'm sure Ms. Janeth would appreciate your enthusiasm," Walt said once Jim finished his lie. "But unfortunately that sword violates several school policies. As the principle is out for the moment, please follow me to my office."

Jim and Tobias paled.

* * *

Strickler was not aware it was possible to make a suit of armor clank miserably, but Jim continued to surprise him. He looked as out of place in the Trollhunter armor as the armor itself did in the school. They entered his office and he waved a hand at the piano bench.

"Have a seat."

Jim sat down looking like he was getting ready to be put on trial for murder.

"So," He ventured nervously. "Just how much trouble am I in?"

And there was his segue.

"Quite a bit more than you're aware of at this point I suspect." Strickler paused a moment for dramatic affect. "Young Trollhunter."

Jim went as stiff as a board, eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed several times.

"H-how?!"

"There is a lot you don't know," He said gently. "That amulet brings you into a conflict that has lasted for millennia. A conflict that I was _born_ into."

"What? What do you mean? But Blinky told me humans didn't know about trolls."

Strickler stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the window.

"Who ever said I was human?"

This was the moment. There would be no going back after this.

He lowered the blinds and then, in a flash of green light, he transformed. Stricklander turned around slowly and surveyed his student. Jim was staring at him with both his eyes and mouth wide open. At least he wasn't screaming.

"Oh, do close your mouth, Young Atlas," He said, making his way over to his desk. "You will catch flies."

Jim's mouth snapped closed. He spent a few minutes sputtering incoherently before he managed to form a sentence.

"What are you?"

Stricklander gave him a slight smile as he sat down.

"A changeling," He said and was pleased when only confusion showed up on his student's face.

Good, he wasn't too late.

"Like a fairy?" Jim asked brow furrowing.

Stricklander chuckled at that.

"Of course not, fairies lost the war with pixies ages ago. No I'm a troll, but I have the ability to shapeshift into human form."

With another flash of green he was Walter Strickler, high school English teacher, again.

Jim leaned forward slightly in his seat.

"How do you do that?"

Strickler smiled slightly at his reaction.

"In due time, Young Atlas. Be patient and I will explain everything you need to know."

Now for the tricky part.

"Naturally it is magic that grants me the ability to switch forms; unfortunately the particulars are not quite as pleasant."

He leveled a stern look at Jim and the boy straightened up on his stool as if about to receive a particularly important lesson in class.

"Changelings start out as regular trolls but as whelps, children, they are kidnapped by the Gum-Gums…"

"Gum-Gums?" Jim interrupted.

"Didn't they tell you about those?" Strickler asked. "Gum-Gums are a race of trolls known for their viciousness. As Trollhunter they will be one of your main concerns. Fortunately there is only one known Gum-Gum remaining on the surface."

"Would that be Bular by any chance?"

"Indeed, I can tell you more about him later, for now back to the changelings. The stolen whelps undergo a rather…. nasty process which halts their aging and makes them a changeling. They then undergo years of conditioning both physical and mental. I'll spare you the details, but it isn't pleasant. Most of the newly created changelings will be killed off before the end. The surviving changelings are then bound to a human infant, whom they replace. The human stops aging and the changeling grows up in their place."

"That's terrible," Jim said, complexion a little paler than usual. "Why do the Gum-Gums do that? What happens to the baby?"

"The infant is fine. They are all kept in a secret nursery; no harm may come to them if the spell is to work." Jim's shoulders loosened a little at that, but he still looked pale. "As for the purpose the Gum-Gums do it to create spies for the surface world. Changelings can walk in daylight while regular trolls cannot."

"They can't?"

"No. Sunlight turns most trolls to stone."

"Huh. That's good to know," Jim said.

"Listen," Strickler said, standing up from his chair. "We need to talk more, but for now I would like to make you an offer and a request."

Jim also stood up, armor clanking slightly, and faced Strickler as he came around his desk.

"Changelings are not particularly liked by either side," He paused, mentally testing out his wording. "We're seen as… impure abominations, not human or troll, even though we did not ask for this."

He rested a hand on the boy's shoulder and was pleased to see that he did not flinch.

"I know it is a lot right now, but I would like to ask for your help for my people."

Jim opened his mouth, but Strickler held up a finger to silence him.

"Please take some time to think about this, I know how much you already carry on your shoulders and, as I said, changelings are not well liked. If you answer this call you will be taking on a risk of rejection from the "pure" trolls whom you shall be expected to protect. I don't want you to enter into this lightly.

He gave Jim's shoulder a final pat and lowered his hand. "That said I would like to offer my assistance to you."

"Your assistance?" Jim asked, eyes a little glazed.

"Yes. If you are willing to set aside some time, I can mentor you in both combat and strategy. I know that in order to survive your new burden you will need all the help you can find."

Strickler guided Jim toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and sought out Jim's gaze. Once he was certain he had the boy's full attention, he spoke. It was very important he drove this particular point home.

"One last thing. I would like to request that you do not tell anyone, especially your new troll friends, what I am or that I helped you. If word gets out I will be dead meat… _literally_."

"Of course," Jim said, face paling.

Strickler smiled.

"I'm glad you understand. Now off you go, I'm sure your friend is waiting for you."

He opened the office door and Toby toppled into the room. He had no doubt the boy attempted to listen in. Unfortunately for him Strickler's office was soundproofed. Jim helped the sheepish looking boy to his feet.

"Have a safe trip home you two. No more large weapons at school okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Strickler," Jim replied dutifully.

He started to make his way out of the room, one hand on Toby's shoulder. Strickler allowed them to exit before clearing his throat. Jim paused in the doorway and looked back at him.

"I would like to emphasize again that my office is always open if you need help."

Jim gave him a tired but very genuine smile.

"Thank-you."

"You're quite welcome, Young Atlas," Strickler said returning the smile.

He watched as they vanished around the corner. There was a flash of blue as soon as they were out of sight. He hummed and closed the door.

Strickler waited until he was sure the boys were gone and then crossed the room to the bookshelf. With practiced motions he uncapped his key pen and inserted it into the secret lock, waiting as the shelf slid down. He stepped into his secret study and closed the wall behind him.

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Call

Strickler had been careful not to approach Jim after making his offer. He needed the boy to come to him. It was part of his plan.

Or rather that had been part of his plan…

Strickler watched out of the corner of his eye as Jim settled himself carefully into his desk flinching when his bag bumped his side on the way down. If he looked carefully he could see bruises showing from under the collar of his sweater. What concerned Walter the most, however, was the downward cast of his eyes and the hunch of his shoulders. The boy looked… beaten. Defeated.

He couldn't have that. Not if he wanted to play the boy's new influence to his advantage.

Mind made up, Strickler called Jim to stay back as soon as class ended.

"Yes?" Jim asked.

His voice quiet and rough as if he had a sore throat. Against his usual decorum his eyes remained fastened firmly on the floor.

"You're injured," Strickler said.

The boy glanced up and then back down, shoulders tensing.

"Yeah. I had my first… sparring match last night."

Strickler watched him for a moment.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well?"

Jim barked out a rough laugh and started coughing.

"Not really," he said once he managed to stop.

There was a moment of silence as Strickler contemplated his next move.

"I notice you're favoring your side. Have you had anyone look at it to make sure you don't have any broken ribs?"

Jim didn't respond, his hands coming up to clench at the strap of his backpack. Strickler sighed and ran a hand through his hair. _Teenagers_ …

He let out another sigh and strode over to his desk. In his top drawer was a box of ibuprofen, he pulled it out, broke off a couple of the encased pills, and tossed them to the boy.

Jim looked up at him with a puzzled frown.

"Why…"

"You're in pain," Strickler stated. "I won't force you to get help, but you need to take care of yourself. This should at least help with the muscle pain. I can write you a pass to get you out of Mr. Lawrance's class next period, so you will have some more time to recover."

Jim was now staring at him, but Strickler pressed on.

"That said, if you start feeling worse, experiencing pain in your lungs, or, Lady forbid, coughing up blood, take yourself to the hospital _immediately_. You can tell them you crashed your bicycle. Broken ribs can puncture lungs and _that_ is not pleasant, I assure you. Do I make myself clear?"

"I…" Jim turned the ibuprofen in his fingers before shoving it in his pocket. "Yeah… Thank-you."

Strickler nodded his acknowledgement and wrote the pass out. After handing it to Jim he returned to his desk and pulled out a stack of homework to grade. Jim drifted toward the door, but didn't open it. He stood there with his hand resting on the knob.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Strickler asked glancing up slightly.

Jim jerked and stared at him wide eyed. His mouth opened and closed a few times and then he looked down, running a hand through his hair. After a moment he lowered it and looked up again.

"I've never felt so humiliated," He said, voice low.

Strickler set his pen down and turned his full attention to his student.

"There's this troll, Draal, he's the previous Trollhunter's son," Jim continued with a bitter sounding laugh. "He said that he was supposed to have gotten the amulet, that I didn't deserve it because I wasn't a troll."

 _If those words didn't hit a little too close to home…_

"He asked to spar with me. It wasn't really meant to be a spar though… he just wanted to show me that I was worthless."

Jim curled in on himself, shoulders tense. His fists clenched and Strickler, having a far better sense of smell than the average human, caught the metallic tang of blood in the air.

"He succeeded. I didn't stand a chance. It wasn't even a fight; it was a one sided beat down. I honestly thought he was going to kill me at one point."

Jim looked up at Strickler, eyes glistening and brows furrowed.

"I… I tried to get rid of it afterward -the amulet, I mean- but it just keeps reappearing."

He let out another laugh, but this one sounded closer to a sob.

"Blinky says it's a call I can't refuse, my _destiny_ , but it certainly doesn't feel like it. I'm just a stupid weak teenager. I've never even been in a fight before all this. The amulet _has to_ have made a mistake."

Strickler had known that the Trollhunter could not refuse their call, but he had assumed it was more of a cultural thing. The trolls would not accept the chosen one's refusal. Not when the amulet would not bond to another while they were still living. He had never imagined that Merlin would make it so that the chosen champion would never have a moment of peace.

Jim was looking at him with _something_ in his expression. Something vulnerable and almost desperate. Whatever Strickler said next would be important.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, choosing his words carefully.

"I can't say that I believe in destiny," He said finally. "Life is many things, but it is not pre-planned. Having said that, I do know what it's like to be stuck in a bad situation… When that happens you can either resign yourself to it or… you can make the situation work for you."

Jim's gaze slowly drifted back up.

"I'm not going to claim it will get easier," Strickler said, moving from behind his desk to go stand at the window. "If anything the opposite will happen: those in control _hate_ people who won't accept their place."

His lip curled a little as he said that, old memories flickering through his mind. He turned and leveled his gaze at Jim and the boy stared back in rapt attention.

"Don't heed them. Be angry, be ruthless, be selfish. Make your own destiny. It may continue to get harder, but it will be worth it."

Strickler took a deep breath and moved back behind his desk.

"That is the best advice I can give. Look after yourself and don't let them break your back, Young Atlas. You deserve far better."

Jim blinked twice and then looked down at his hands, brow furrowing slightly. After a moment, he looked back up at Strickler, his eyes slowing tracing over the changeling's face as if he was looking for something. Walter straightened up slightly.

"Thank-you," Jim said softly.

Jim watched him for a moment longer and then left the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. Strickler settled back into his chair thinking over what had just happened.

* * *

Strickler wasn't expecting to see Jim again so soon, certainly not within the next day. The boy opened the door quite loudly causing Strickler to jump and reach for his pocket.

"I want to take your offer."

Strickler blinked owlishly, at a loss.

"I mean your offer to train me," Jim clarified.

Strickler blinked again, taking a moment to process that statement and then another to observe the boy. His shoulders were still tense but there was a determined glint to his eyes this time. He looked ready to fight.

"I see," Strickler said, pleased.

He had spent most of last night listening to Bular rant about the new Trollhunter being human and how it was a personal insult to him. It was nice to have something go his way for once.

"Come. Have a seat," He put on a relaxed smile as he waved a hand at the piano bench but his mind was already churning. "We shall get the details all worked out."

Jim nodded eagerly, closing the door behind him.


End file.
